The Appeal for Mercy
“In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.” This was Bishop Mariann Budde’s appeal to our new president at the January 21 Service of Prayer for the Nation. What could be a more beautiful, urgent, normal, even benign, request? A few days later, National Cathedral Dean Randy Hollerith remarked, “I never thought I’d see the day when mercy is controversial.”
Mercy is not controversial. It is the lifeblood of our souls! What is “controversial,” so to speak, are aspects of this particular appeal. I hope, as Bishop Budde said on The View, “to bring other voices into the conversation, voices that have not been heard in the public space.”
Setting aside questions about the unmerciful power differential between Canterbury Pulpit and a pew, this particular appeal for mercy is disconcerting for two reasons: its vagueness and its underlying perspectives. Mercy is never exercised in a vacuum. With no reference to the common good or to law and no tools given to discern how concretely to enact mercy, mercy will struggle to be true.
One wonders about the use of fear: “scared now.” Who can argue emotion? It halts all thoughtfulness. One argues policy. Policy governs the public square. As the bishop said in her interview with The Hill, “politics is about organized community.” Mercy, the loving care shown to those in distress and disadvantage, has its paramount place, but it is not an organizing principle.
Regarding underlying perspectives, one may have legitimate questions. Bishop Budde was very specific regarding which voices she wishes to amplify: transgender children and immigrants. Is she aware of scores of children, on the front-end of self-discovery, already questioning gender and frightened of being told that they are more than likely in the right body? What about the scores of parents fearful of an ideology that negates biological reality that has been operative with little parental input and actually quite loud in the public space?
What about those uncomfortable with the little-recognized distinction between legal and illegal immigrants? Do all immigrants have the same status? Does one have a human right to reside wherever desired? Does Christian faith always advocate for open borders as the only just immigration policy?
Finally, what of the separation of church and state? Ought the church remember that state is primarily in the business of “organized fairness” and thus necessarily of laws? The bishop said “to say that religion isn’t political is really just not true.” Is there a line? “Political but not partisan,” one sometimes hears. Is the expectation that mercy look a certain way partisan?
Faith leaves us with great autonomy of intellect in the public square. We thus always grope in the dark somewhat to discern sensible practical policy that is respectful of our Christian mandate to love. If true, is it prudent that, as humble seekers of truth, we always make our appeals to leaders in the public square in our own name?
The Rev. Dominique Peridans
Washington, D.C.
A Passive-Aggressive Homily
Washington National Cathedral’s website describes Bishop Mariann Budde’s words as a homily. Neither homilies nor sermons normally single out one person in the audience.
Bishop Budde’s remarks to President Trump revealed an array of ironies to offended Christians. On behalf of those who believe Trump is overstepping boundaries of political office, Budde overstepped boundaries of ecclesiastical office. Out of fear that Trump will misuse God and the Bible to promote nefarious action, Budde inserted the pulpit between church and state.
In order to beg hospitality for undocumented immigrants, Budde was inhospitable to Trump. In a call for mercy, the bishop shamed the highest office of the country. Invoking humility, Budde elevated her name recognition via the national news media. Love was noticeably missing in the social-media aftermath.
A viral thread among Budde’s supporters posits that those who take offense at her words misunderstand Jesus. Passive aggression, by its nature, is hard to identify, but there are a few indicators of hidden anger, even in the edited transcripts still available. Budde’s remarks took place in a special Inaugural prayer service rather than an ordinary Sunday service.
The president, vice president, and their families were honored guests. Budde’s soft-spoken remarks left them visibly surprised and uncomfortable in the pews — evidence of a guised attack in progress. Psychology Today refers to the tactics of “Invented Obstacles” and “Scorekeeping.” Instead of remembering an Inaugural celebration steeped in solemn prayer, the church went on record with a long “Gotcha” moment.
In response to Scripture telling us to respect those in government, notably Romans 13, Budde supporters claim either that St. Paul lacks authority or is being misinterpreted. Nevertheless, Jesus makes it clear to Pilate (John 19:11) that rulers only govern by God’s leave. Budde is keeping the pre-election partisan fight alive by resisting the duly elected President Trump. When Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant, Christ rebuked him: “No more of this!” (Luke 22:51).
Passive aggression comes from a place of anger and perceived weakness. With God on our side, we have nothing to fear from government rulers, and nothing is stopping any Christian from ministering to immigrants. True humility gives respect where respect is due. With Christ, we can demonstrate respect with love.
Margaret Will
McArthur, Ohio
Are We Merciful?
Kudos to Bishop Budde for fixing her gaze on the new president and, with the moral authority of the preacher, calling him to acts of mercy on behalf of the vulnerable. That the president reports feeling offended by her sermon is all the more remarkable given the bishop’s gentle composure and soft tone. She is being both lauded and pilloried for her outspoken witness. But some have suggested that if we Christians had, during the previous administration, demanded mercy on the vulnerable of Palestine, Bishop Budde could possibly have been preaching to a different president.
My non-Christian friends ask: why did your bishop not make this kind of public plea over the past four years for mercy on the dying in Palestine? Why did your church, they ask, not use its role in the public square to demand mercy on the vulnerable there? Why did you Episcopalians, they ask, not have the moral fortitude in the previous administration to demand mercy on Palestine as on your own country?
It is indeed true that the history of the Holy Land is complex. But the Bible is not a real-estate deed; nor does history justify the current violence. We Christians have muffled any substantive call to mercy. Some have wondered whether, if our own church had demanded of our previous administration that our country abide by its own Leahy Law, the situation in the Middle East might in fact look very different. But we will never know.
Military intelligence and weapons funded by American tax dollars are met by our beautifully crafted thoughts and prayers, our politely balanced resolutions. No matter which side we claim is “just,” no matter where you lay the blame (indeed, sides and blame are not easily parsed), it is patently obvious that mercy is withheld in Palestine.
But for us to stand with the vulnerable we would need a different voice in American foreign policy. And maybe we are not strong enough for this. Maybe the Episcopal Church remains captive to political power. For example, why are political services allowed in our cathedral? In a country that proclaims separation of church and state, why does the Episcopal Church allow its Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul to be used as a “National Cathedral”? Simply out of political tradition? The cathedral is not dependent on government funds. It is said to operate solely on private donations. It does not belong to the government. Its partnership in political ceremony compromises our witness to Jesus Christ.
I certainly agree with Bishop Budde: showing mercy to the vulnerable is indeed the vocation of every Christian. But we must turn the lens of Jesus’ parable back on us: are we ourselves merciful? Are we in fact able to remove the log in our own eye before pointing to the speck in our neighbor’s? Jesus tells us that among wolves we will need dove-like innocence, yes, but also serpent-like wisdom. Proclaiming the truth in love will only become more and more challenging as the next four years unfold. We will all need to use our Martin Luther King voices, our Fannie Lou Hamer voices, our Shirley Chisolm voices. Bishops. Priests. Layfolk. All.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
The Rev. Kathryn Greene-McCreight
New Haven, Connecticut
Keeping the Nation Divided
I have been a political voter since I was 18 years of age. It is a privilege of citizens of the United States. It is not a privilege of non-citizens. But that is an argument for another day, and we can discuss that.
What I have to ask reaches far back into the 1960s and before, with implications for 2024 and beyond.
Reaching back to my early years, I remember never seeing the letters D, I, or R preceding the governor, the senator, or member of Congress when they appear on television. Somehow we are led, without instruction, to listen to those of our own party, and to turn a deaf ear to those of a contrary party, but most often these letters appear after the election, not before.
Once one has pledged loyalty to all American voters, then we show that they only belong to the D, or I, or the R party. This is precisely when the references to a politician’s party should be removed so that they belong to all and not only to their party.
Place the letters before, after, or along with their names while the races are being run, but once the race is completed, delete the references and allow the politicians to belong to all Americans.
The Rev. Jeffrey Mackey
Colliers, West Virginia
Love Your Episcopal Neighbor
As another era of seemingly indefinite political uneasiness descends upon the nation and its churches, progressives should genuinely reckon with our fellow churchgoers who are traditionalists and conservatives.
We live among a tapestry of worldviews, many of which are undoubtedly bigoted and prejudiced. From homophobic and misogynistic refugees to NIMBY white grandmas who shudder when they see homeless people, we are surrounded by people who hold perspectives that contradict progressive principles.
One facile solution for dealing with these people is to ignore them; after all, it’s easier to get along with someone if you don’t know that you disagree with them. They can just be other folks we share Communion with, nothing more.
Of course, that is an unsatisfactory approach. The church must have boundaries. As Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 5, we should “clean out” immorality from our communities in order to live in “sincerity and truth.” The Scriptures are clear: we must be empowered to set the right example if someone has a wrong belief.
But unlike how the prejudiced may disparage the least fortunate, we cannot so condemn those with traditional views that they no longer seek the inclusive parishes of our church. The reach of the progressive vision of the gospel will be constrained if we only preach to those who already agree with us. In fact, I would argue that conservatives’ persistence in remaining with the Episcopal Church through so many bouts of liberal reform is a sign that their hearts are open. It would be a tragedy to lose our conservative neighbors when they have already shown a remarkable willingness to listen and learn.
In many churches, there are disputes about displaying pride symbols, feeding the unhoused, providing assistance to undocumented immigrants, and so on. We have a duty to remain committed to our principles of justice and love, but we must be careful and tamp down the temperature when there is excessive rancor. Let’s remember that we progressives, too, harbor prejudices and assumptions.
For example, we might think that anyone who dislikes the pride flag is a homophobe. I invite you to talk (and listen) to fellow parishioners about why they hold their seemingly regressive views. I suspect that you’ll find that many of their opinions are more nuanced and less radical than you initially thought. Some views and behaviors are more challenging to reconcile. Nonetheless, I believe patience, persistence, and openness are the winning formulas.
All this can feel like a ridiculous task in an era marked by lack of empathy and outrage culture. Yet to embrace sinners and work judiciously to bring them into our beloved community is precisely the mission Christ gave us: to “love [our] enemies and pray for those who persecute [us]” (Matt. 5:44). The temptation to charge ahead and wholly ignore traditionalist viewpoints may offer the illusion of progress, but it is a shallow solution that I believe will separate many people from God and his loving vision for our world.
William Chen
Sacramento, California